Easy
by Petra Igraine
Summary: Paris was over. All they had left to do was move on...


_A/N: A songfic of a sort, based on Rascal Flatts' wonderful song 'Easy'. As every author knows, reviews are most welcome :) I hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were._

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><p><em>We broke up<br>yeah, it's tough  
>most guys would've been crushed<br>Wastin' their time  
>Wonderin' where they went wrong<br>No way, not me  
>Hey, I'm doing just fine<br>I'm not afraid of movin' on  
><em>  
>Gibbs pushed through the front door, still finding it strange to be back in his old home. After spending months traversing Europe, his old life in the U.S. felt foreign. So much had changed, and yet it was all instinctively familiar somehow.<p>

Strolling through the living room, he didn't seem to notice the musty smell that still clung to the furniture. His attention was devoted to the envelope in his hand; the envelope he had driven all the way across town to collect. The words 'Gibbs – Priority' were neatly printed on the cover in someone's curvy handwriting while the seal at the back was still intact despite the fact that it had been in his possession for the last half an hour. He felt wary of its contents. He still didn't know if it was a good idea to open it. He was supposed to be moving on...

He stuffed the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket. Even though it was marked 'priority,' he knew it could wait. He didn't have to face the memories just yet.

Stepping up to the dining table, he reached for the semi-unpacked rucksack slouched on the hard chair. Pulling the drawstring loose, he tipped the last of its contents across the wooden surface and began rummaging about for the rumpled piece of paper he knew was hiding in amongst the junk. He frowned upon finding it, still not exactly sure why he was keeping it. Whatever the reason, he picked it up and jogged down the stairs to the basement.

Under the glaring light of the bare bulb, he spread the rumpled paper flat on the dusty workbench. Against his better judgment, he took one last glance at the gracefully scripted letters printed on the stark white page.

It was neat.

It was short.

It was a pitiful excuse of a goodbye.

With his jaw clenched tight, he reached up to slide a flimsy shoebox from the top shelf. Its sparse contents rattled away inside as he lowered it to the work surface. Pushing off the lid, he dropped the letter in without a second thought, letting it rest on top of the little trinkets tripping about in the bottom. The box was a treasure trove of everything that reminded him of _Her_...

Sliding the envelope from his jacket pocket, he stared at it for a second as he debated over whether he wanted to open it. He'd been in such a hurry to get it, but now he was hesitant. He hadn't set eyes on its contents; not even a glimpse. His curiosity got the better of him.

Sliding his finger under the tab, he opened the top and let the glossy photographs spill out. With a pang of sadness, he held one up to the light, the glossy surface feeling tacky under his fingertips. It was a snapshot of _Her_ posing demurely in front of some rundown outhouses. Serbia. He let himself indulge in one last moment of reminiscence, running a finger over her copper curls. She really did look beautiful...

With regret, he gathered them back in a neat pile and carefully placed them in the box along with the letter.

It was over. Paris was thousands of miles away. There was no point wondering where it went wrong; she wanted to move on to bigger and better things. Whatever he did, he wouldn't get her back.

And so he closed the lid on the memories.

Lifting the rectangular box back onto its shelf, he could almost pretend that it had never happened. Out of sight, out of mind.

There was nothing left to do but move on.

He was fine.

Or at least, that's what he told himself...

_The truth is  
>That I miss lyin' in those arms of his<br>But I don't ever let it show  
>I laugh and I act like<br>I'm having the time of my life  
>as far as he knows<em>

The nightclub was hot. Too hot. The hands at her hips felt like they were burning her skin, and yet she still smiled. That scarlet lipstick she always insisted on wearing worked wonders in deflecting attention away from the sense of emptiness in her eyes. It was the shield she used to keep her feelings private. Pressing herself back against the body behind her, she cleared her mind and swayed to the heavy beat as if she were having the time of her life.

A few of her colleagues whistled as they saw her dancing with the handsome stranger, the shrill ringing barely audible over the deafening music. Jenny smirked, lifting her hand to rest against the back of the man's neck. She needed to feel him closer; needed him to crowd her senses. He dropped his lips to her neck, grazing his teeth over her sweaty skin.

He didn't kiss her the way _He_ did. He couldn't...

She tilted her head to the side, silently trying to persuade him to find that sensitive spot just above her shoulder; the only spot that made her go weak at the knees.

He was oblivious to her subtle hints.

Frustrated, she ran her hand up into his silky black hair, tugging gently to guide him to the right place. She didn't have the patience to wait for him to find it on his own.

When his lips finally grazed across it she felt her skin tingle, a ripple of pleasure shimmying down her spine. Her fingers curled tighter into his hair, pulling him even closer as she closed her eyes. She could almost convince herself that she was back in that sweaty attic in Marseilles with _His_ rough lips kissing her for the very first time. She groaned deep in her throat, her breathing becoming laboured as she lost herself in the moment.

Spinning around, she ignored the smirks on her colleagues' faces as she captured his lips in a searing kiss. She would deal with their snarky comments in the morning; in that moment she needed a distraction. It made it easier to pretend that everything was alright...

Pressing her hips into his, she ran her hands up his chest to his cheeks, taking control of the kiss. He was doing it all wrong...

The man yielded to her demands, enjoying being dominated by the beautiful redhead. As he felt her run her tongue along his teeth he knew he'd submit to her every whim. There was an almost desperate air to her movements that he found incredibly alluring.

Completely breathless, Jenny stepped away to calm her racing mind. She wanted more... needed more. The handsome stranger gazed down at her, his hands still plastered over her waist. Biting her lip, she laced her fingers through his and led him over to a dark corner.

Her colleagues watched her disappear into the darkness, jealous of her ability to throw caution to the wind.

_If only they knew why..._

Kicking away the empty glass rolling round at their feet, the man pressed her up against the sticky wall. She looked up at his murky brown eyes, glad that she wasn't staring into pools of blue. Running a finger over the stubble on cheek, she studied his crooked grin. It didn't have that cheeky quality she loved to see; he looked smug...

With her heart still racing from the adrenalin, she arched her back as she guided his lips back to hers. He kissed her soundly, a hand reaching up to tangle in her hair as the other kept her hips pressed against his. She moaned under his lips, she writhed under his hands, she pretended like she was having the time of her life.

She kissed him back, wanting nothing more than those arms around her to be _His_.

_Oh, it's easy goin' out on a Friday night  
>Oh, it's easy every time I see him out<br>I can smile, live it up  
>Forget about the way it was<br>But what she  
>Oh, what he don't know<br>What she don't know  
>Is how hard it is to make it look so<br>Easy  
>Look so easy<br>_

It was the end of a long week. The sky outside the office was dyed a midnight blue, the wispy clouds tinged with orange as they reflected the city's lights. Jenny leaned against the silver painted railing outside MTAC, feeling a little like Juliet up on her balcony as she watched Gibbs work steadily at his desk. _Her Romeo..._

She longed to put into words how she felt... admit her mistake... curse the world for being so cruel...

She kept herself in check despite her yearning to throw caution to the wind.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she suddenly felt drained by the effort of pretending. Everything wasn't okay. It was hard having to face him every day. It was even harder having to forget how wonderful it had been to have him there to hold her tight when things went wrong. If only he knew how difficult it was to put that smile on her face...

Gibbs felt her presence up on the catwalk. He looked up from his half written report and gazed at her, his eyes wide. He couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth turn up in a shadow of a smile at the sight of her. He did love seeing her in that blue sweater with her hair curling round her shoulders.

Leaning back in his chair to watch her, he knew that she'd get fidgety under his gaze and leave him alone to do his work. His smile couldn't last forever. He'd rather she wasn't there to see it disappear.

Sure enough, she looked down at her hands before disappearing behind the steel doors behind her.

His face fell as he looked around the empty bullpen. No matter how deceiving his smile was, he hadn't forgotten the way it felt to be with her; the hurt he'd felt when she left. After six long years, memories of Paris were still as clear as the day they were made. It wasn't easy to make it look as if he'd moved on...


End file.
